


The Good Businessman

by TheRothwoman



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:33:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2817278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRothwoman/pseuds/TheRothwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perfectworldshipping brothel AU. Wealthy businessman Lysandre visits Lumiose City's seedy brothels with a mission of humanity. On this particular night, he's visiting a man named Augustine with a rough past but possibly one of the best nights of his life ahead of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Businessman

In the deepest corners of the darkest alleyways in Lumiose City, there were brothels. In a city that catered to all pleasures from dining to shopping to art, there must also be places catering to the carnal. These places stocked all sorts from the young (within legal reason, of course) to the old, female and male and everything inbetween, and they were visited by locals and tourists alike. One particular customer had something of a reputation amongst the brothel owners. He was known to them only as Lysandre, and he was widely recognized as one of the leading men of the upper crust of Lumiose. The brothel owners dared not questions his motives when there was so much profit to be made, but naturally gossip spread amongst them. Was he trying to rank all of them? Was he scouting out for a mistress or a lover? No one really knew. This particular night, Lysandre was headed for The Golden Bells, an all-male brothel.

“Any of our boys strike your fancy, sir?” the man at the counter asked. Lysandre had already paid a hefty no-questions-asked rate and now stood thumbing through the directory, looking at the photographs of everyone available at the establishment. His eyes landed on one of a young man with wild deep indigo hair.

“How long has he been here?” Lysandre asked the man at the counter, pointing to the picture.

“Who, Augustine?” the man asked, then whistled. “Damn near forever, it seems. He’s been working here since he was old enough, I think?” The directory listed Augustine as age thirty, so…twelve years? Goodness, that was quite a while for someone so youthful to be a in place like this.

“Very well,” said Lysandre, “I choose him.” The man at the counter smiled.

“I see you’re a man of good taste,” he said. “Augustine’s fairly popular. But for the rest of the night, he’s yours.” The man flashed an almost wicked grin before leading Lysandre down a hallway lined with doors. They reached the second door from the end on the left and the man gave it a sharp few raps. “Augustine! You’ve got a Gold Carder! Play nice, alright?” The man gave Lysandre one last look as he turned the door handle and whispered, “all yours, m’lord.” Lysandre stepped into the room. It was sparsely furnished, with just a dressing room desk and mirror, a four-poster bed, and a couple of chairs. No windows. The only light came from the saddest-looking chandelier Lysandre had ever seen hanging from the ceiling. On one of the chairs sat a man, skinny and pale-skinned, with the same flyaway dark hair that had caught Lysandre’s eye in the picture. This must be Augustine. Clad only in a ratty brown bathrobe, he looked up with icy grey eyes from the book he was reading. He put it away too quickly for Lysandre to catch the title.

“’Gold Carder’?” Lysandre asked.

“It means you’re rich,” Augustine replied. “Or, at least, the owners think you’re rich. You paid the no-questions-asked rate, right?”

“That’s right.” Even at this distance, Lysandre could sense Augustine tensing up. Something in his eyes got darker. Lysandre put both hands up. “Before we go any further, I would like to make one thing clear: I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” Augustine’s shoulders relaxed a bit and the shade left his eyes.

“You…you mean it?” he asked. Lysandre nodded. “N-no one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Haven’t they? Goodness, that seems problematic.” Taking a few steps forward, Lysandre drew up the other chair and sat himself down. It was hardwood, obviously not meant for sitting in very long. “So, Augustine, would you like to tell me a little about yourself?” Augustine sat there in silence, bewildered.

“…Me? You want to know about…me?” 

“Of course.”

“What’s there to know?” 

“Well, how about that book you were reading?”

Augustine looked over at the book he’d placed behind him on the dresser. “Oh, this? It’s _Explorations of Individual Values and Natures of Pokémon_ by Professor Oak in the Kanto region.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Lysandre smiled. “Are you a connoisseur of Pokémon, or just a hobbyist?”

“Oh, I wish I could even call myself a hobbyist,” Augustine replied, with a hint of a smile. “I don’t have any Pokémon of my own, but…I would like to go on a journey someday.”

“Any in particular that you’re looking to catch?”

“Well, I would like to meet a Gible one day, or a Froakie,” Augustine’s smile widened gradually.

“They’re fine specimens,” said Lysandre. “I have a particular fondness for the Litleo line myself. If Pokémon were allowed in here, I could have brought one of mine to show you.”

Augustine shook his head. “They’ll never allow Pokémon into the rooms in the brothels. I hear it’s to prevent anyone from misusing Hypnosis or Vine Whip or…things of the like.” Lysandre nodded.

“A noble precaution,” he said. “But that aside…how _do_ they treat you in here?”

“…Well enough,” Augustine replied after a long pause. “They feed us three times a day, the bathing facilities are well-maintained…” Another pause, the smile from earlier fading rapidly. “…They even…let us go outside sometimes.”

Lysandre raised a concerned eyebrow. “’Sometimes’?”

“For exercise,” Augustine elaborated, “but they always send a Pokémon escort with us to make sure no one…runs away. Usually canine Pokémon, like Growlithe or Mightyena.”

“Do the men here usually try to run away when they go out?” said Lysandre, furrowing his brow.

“Not…not ‘usually’, but…it has happened,” said Augustine, averting his gaze and starting to wring his hands slightly. “I’m…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this…”

Lysandre shook his head. “You have nothing to fear from me. If you’ve been mistreated, it seems you have only the owners to fear, and on my life I swear I won’t breathe a word of this conversation to them.” Augustine’s eyes went wide.

“They…they never let us go further than the alleys! If we made it out to the avenues or boulevards, any escape attempt would cause a scene. Im-imagine what that would look like to a bystander or a tourist: a Pokémon dragging someone bodily down a dark alleyway? Surely someone…someone would intervene…” Augustine stopped to breathe. Lysandre was torn between wanting to know more and changing the subject, as this topic was obviously a distressing one for Augustine. He decided, just one more question. 

“Have _you_ ever tried to escape?”

Augustine seemed more desperate to keep his composure but was unable to stop two tears leaking from his eyes. He swallowed hard.

“You…don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Lysandre reassured him. Augustine shook his head.

“I did…once…” he said at last. “It was after my…my first year here…working, anyway…I’ve been here for fifteen years, but I was just an underling to the owners for the first three…the day after I’d been working for a year…a customer hit me…for the tenth time. They’re not told not to do that because…some of the others here like it rough…but after being battered for the tenth time I’d…decided I’d had enough. The next time they let me out, I made a break for South Boulevard and…the…the Growlithe they sent with me…knew Flamethrower and…” Augustine clutched at his right shoulder, the rest of his body trembling. “They wouldn’t take me to a hospital…they had our one medic on-site patch me up…and then they almost threw me out into the streets anyway because now I was…” Augustine choked back a sob, “… _damaged property!_ And I almost wished they had, but then I realized, where would I go?! I have no family, no friends, just _this_ and……oh Arceus…this place is all I have…” The tears were flowing freely now. Augustine sniveled a bit before burying his face in his hands and groaning, “Oh no, I’m doing it wrong…I’m so sorry, I have such a good track record…they keep saying no one wants to bang a crier…”

Lysandre felt something in his heart crack. He quickly stood up from his chair, strode over, and took the sobbing Augustine in his arms. Letting the smaller man weep openly into the front of his coat, Lysandre whispered soft words of comfort to him and gently patted his hair. He didn’t dare to stroke his back, for fear of irritating the burn mark that he knew must be there.

“Oh, Augustine,” he murmured. “You seem like such a good man. You deserve so much more than this. Everyone here does.” They stayed like that in mostly silence for another few minutes before Lysandre finally spoke again. “Augustine, you’ve told me about you, now let me tell you a little something about me.” Augustine looked up with a tear-stained face, shrinking a little at how dark Lysandre’s had suddenly become.

“I hate brothels. I absolutely despise them. They’re filthy and degrading and they’re the scourge of this city. If I could do away with all of them in an instant…” he snapped his fingers, “I would. So what am I doing in one, you ask? Simple. At the moment, I am raising funds to launch a campaign to get the brothels shut down, but I know this is a problem that can’t be solved just by throwing money at it. So, in the meantime, I decided to do a more personal service to those working the brothels. Simply put, I go in and treat one of their staff like the human being they deserve to be for a night. My gift for now: humanity. My hopeful gift for later: freedom.” Augustine’s eyes widened.

“But…won’t the brothel owners out you as a customer if you try to shut them down?” he asked. Lysandre closed his eyes, thoughtfully.

“That is indeed a risk I have considered,” he said. “My best option is to simply explain these nights and hope that will be enough.” Augustine nodded.

“And I would be happy to vouch for you,” he said. “I can’t…I can’t remember the last time anyone was this kind to me. Usually customers come in and just…clothes off immediately. Which reminds me…” Augustine stood up, reaching to undo the knot on his robe, “Perhaps we’ve waited long enough.” Lysandre put up a hand.

“Augustine, wait,” he said. “We don’t _have_ to do this if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to.”

“Augustine…do you have a last name?”

Augustine looked puzzled, but replied, “Actually, yes. It’s ‘Sycamore’.”

“Alright then,” said Lysandre, firmly. “Augustine…please put aside the fact that this is a brothel, put aside the fact that I’ve paid to be here with you, put aside any idea that you ‘owe me’ for showing you kindness: are you saying yes because _you_ , Augustine Sycamore, want to engage in sexual intercourse with me of your own volition?”

Augustine didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes I do.”

“Very well. Let’s begin.”

As Lysandre undid the buttons on his jacket, Augustine reached down and undid the belt on his robe. In one fluid motion, he flung it off and stood completely naked in front of the taller man. Lysandre suddenly felt rather overdressed and attempted to multitask, gazing his soon-to-be bedfellow up and down while swiftly removing the rest of his own clothing. Augustine looked underfed, already-pale skin seemed almost like porcelain now that all of it was showing. Sure enough, there was the edge of that burn mark on his right shoulder.

“Please, allow me,” said Augustine, as Lysandre was stripped of everything except a pair of crimson boxers. Augustine stepped forward, then down, face level with Lysandre’s nether regions. With practiced fingers, he slipped down Lysandre’s underpants to reveal… “Umm…goodness. I…try to refrain from commenting on customers’ genitals but…my, this is impressive.”

“And it’s all yours tonight,” Lysandre added.

Augustine nuzzled the mighty member with his nose briefly before ministering to it properly with his mouth. He kissed it first, then began running his tongue along the length. Lysandre made a sharp intake of breath as Augustine teased at the head with his teeth. The dark-haired man started sucking gently, first just the tip, then gradually consuming more and more of Lysandre’s cock. Once Augustine had taken all of him into his mouth, Lysandre leaned back against the end of the bed and put an encouraging hand on the back of his head. Augustine bobbed his head up and down, settling into a comfortable rhythm as he coaxed Lysandre to erect himself. It didn’t take long, the dick becoming harder as Lysandre’s breathing became heavier, running his fingers through Augustine’s hair as he resisted accidentally grabbing a fistful in a moment of intense pleasure. With one final swirl of his tongue, Augustine withdrew.

“You taste like rain,” he said. Lysandre wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he chose to take it as a compliment.

“Come up and join me,” he said, invitingly patting the bed next to him. Augustine did so, getting on all fours in the process and leaning in close to Lysandre’s face. Cupping it in one hand, Augustine kissed Lysandre full on the lips. The larger man could taste the faint tang of his own cock on Augustine’s mouth, and he wasn’t entirely sure he’d call it “like rain.” Certainly musky, more like petrichor. He leaned into Augustine’s kiss, brushing the other man’s bangs out of his face with one hand. When they finally broke off, Lysandre put Augustine’s chin between his thumb and his forefinger and looked deep into his eyes.

“Why don’t you lie down?” Lysandre asked. Augustine complied as Lysandre leaned over him. Now that they were closer, Lysandre could see the poor man’s body all the more clearly. He began exploring him all over with his mouth, getting to know every inch of him with his hands. Lysandre began to notice the subtler things, like the faint smattering of freckles on his shoulders and the downy swath of lighter hair on his chest.

And the bruises. Augustine Sycamore was covered in bruises. Lysandre kissed each one he could find in the dim light, trying to make up for nearly half a lifetime of neglect and abuse. Most of them were faded, but some of them looked fresher, like they were from the past few days. The biggest ones were just above Augustine’s hips. Lysandre caressed them gently with his hands and leaned in to kiss them when…

“Ah…no, not there!” Augustine gasped. “I’m sorry…my last customer, he kept gripping me too tightly. Rode me like a Rapidash and wouldn’t let go. It…it still hurts.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. No one should be hurting you,” said Lysandre, looking back up at him. “You are…so beautiful.” Augustine looked like he might start crying again from sheer gratitude, so Lysandre returned to the head of the bed and kissed him on the forehead, then both cheeks, then on the lips again. “Are you alright with moving on to the main event?”

Augustine nodded fervently and pointed to the dresser. “Top drawer on the right.” Lysandre slid off the bed and retrieved a condom and the largest bottle of lubricant he’d ever seen from the drawer. Putting the condom gingerly over his length, Lysandre squirted out a handful of lubricant and returned to the bed. Augustine was now lying on his stomach as Lysandre rubbed some of the lube over his erection.

“Is it alright if I turn over?” Augustine asked a couple minutes later with two of Lysandre’s fingers inside him. “I…I want to see your face.”

Lysandre smiled. “Of course.” He withdrew his fingers and slowly, carefully, inserted his cock into Augustine’s rear end. The motions were slow and languid at first, allowing Augustine to drink in the sensation of having someone inside him who actually cared about him, but soon they became more fast and primal. Fingers tangled in hair and lips mashed together in fierce bouts of passion. Lysandre reached down and somehow managed to get a hand on Augustine’s neglected erection, matching the rhythm of his strokes with that of his hip thrusts. This was how Augustine had wanted to be introduced to the sexual world all those years ago: in the arms of someone experienced who would take care of him and make sure he was loved, instead of a dirty scoundrel who smacked him, shoved a cock down his throat, and left. He looked up at Lysandre, face nearly as red as his hair, and decided to keep that picture in his heart for as long as he possibly could. Lysandre let out a loud grunt as Augustine felt the man’s member twitch inside him, throbbing with release at last. The redhead slowed down his work on Augustine’s erection for a few moments as he caught his breath, before finally milking him to a finish. He withdrew slowly and discarded the condom, looking over the mess that covered his hand and Augustine’s stomach.

“I wish I had something to clean you up with,” he said.

Augustine shook his head. “The sheets will do just fine. They change them regularly.” Lysandre pulled back the top sheet and wiped away the semen, before crawling under the covers and inviting Augustine in with him. The dark-haired man curled up against Lysandre’s husky chest as Lysandre drew him closer, stroking the part of his back unaffected by the burn and kissing him on the top of the head. 

“Please stay,” Augustine begged, wrapping his arms around the larger man.

“I have to leave by morning,” Lysandre replied, mournfully.

“But you’re the most kind, loving, and beautiful man I’ve ever met,” said Augustine, eyes watering again. “I…I don’t even know your name.”

“People call me Lysandre.”

“Lysandre…take me with you.”

“I wish I could. I wish I could take everyone I’ve met on these visits with me. But you…you I _do_ wish could stay with me. At the very least I can stay until you fall asleep.”

“Then I don’t want to sleep,” Augustine grunted. “Can we…can we just talk some more?”

“Of course,” said Lysandre.

They talked for many hours into the night on many things: books, Pokémon, the sky, the meaning of life…it was during their talk about dreams that Augustine finally drifted off. Lysandre lay there cradling the poor man for a long while afterwards before he could bring himself to leave the warm bed, get dressed, and leave. When Augustine woke up to an empty bed the next morning, he had to restrain himself from weeping openly into his pillow, lest he run the risk of being questioned by the owners or the other men at breakfast. Instead, he choked back a sob and went over to pick up his book. A small note fell out of it:

_I’ll be back._

_-L_

The End


End file.
